


strawberries and cream

by spnhell



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Blow Jobs, Bottom Dean Winchester, Boys In Love, Breakfast in Bed, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Edging, Established Relationship, Fanart, Gentle Dom Castiel, Hand Feeding, Human Castiel, Light BDSM, Light Bondage, M/M, Modern AU, PWP, Safe Sane and Consensual, Top Castiel, first time bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 17:58:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13932294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnhell/pseuds/spnhell
Summary: Cas makes Dean breakfast in bed. Dean is far more thankful than either of them anticipated.





	strawberries and cream

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NadiaHart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NadiaHart/gifts).



> happy birthday to my wonderful twin! <3 I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. 
> 
> special thanks as always to my awesome beta [MistressPandora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressPandora/pseuds/MistressPandora), and to my amazing artist [Foxy](foxymoley.tumblr.com), whose work blows me away each and every time.

“Dean, wake up.”

Dean groans, fighting to keep a hold of the dream he’s having. It’s a good one, him and Cas riding in Baby, driving down an endless road.

“ _Dean._ ”

Dean shifts, snuggling further into the duvet, purring softly at the feel of Cas’ hand carding through his hair. He wants to stay asleep, he’s so warm and comfy, but the pull of his boyfriend is too much to resist.

He blinks his eyes open, squinting against the light pouring into the room. Cas is lying across from him, smiling softly in a way that Dean knows is reserved only for him.

“Mornin’,” Dean murmurs, enjoying the way Cas’ eyes light up with a smile of their own. His voice is gruff with sleep, and he feels Cas’ hand tighten in his hair  at the sound of it. Dean grins wolfishly at him, leaning forward to steal a kiss. It pleases him, to know that he can still have that effect on Cas.

Even at the ripe old age of 30.

He pulls back, prepared to start grumbling about it, but Cas is looking at him so adoringly that he can’t bring himself to do it.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” Cas whispers, leaning forward to kiss him again. Dean lets him, rolling backwards and pulling Cas with him. He loves having Cas on top of him like this, loves feeling the weight of his body covering him from head to toe.

They kiss lazily, soft and gentle and warm in the early hour. Dean can feel the hardness of Cas’ cock pressed against his hip, can feel his own filling rapidly too, but they’re in no rush, content to just melt into each other, skin against skin.

It’s Cas who pulls away in the end, laughing at Dean’s whine.

“I made you breakfast,” he says, and it’s Dean’s turn to chuckle. Cas’ face is already flushed, his hair a beautiful disaster, his eyes dark with lust. Dean can see how hard he’s having to resist, his arms are shaking ever so slightly where’s he’s holding himself up above him.

“I’d rather eat you for breakfast,” Dean teases, winking up at Cas. He skims a hand up Cas’ chest, drawing a moan out of him as he lingers over a nipple. He trails his hand up further, pressing into the bruises he left littered over Cas’ collarbone last night, licking his lips at the memory. He ends up with his hand buried in Cas’ hair, pulling his head down so he can press their lips back together. He licks over the seam of Cas’ mouth, capturing Cas’ answering groan as he opens for him. This kiss is far more heated than the last, hot and wet as they lose themselves in each other. Dean bites softly into Cas’ lower lip, lapping up the sound Cas makes, before he pulls away to start kissing a trail down Cas’ throat.

“ _Dean,_ ” Cas rumbles, and Dean can feel the vibration of it against his mouth. He hums in response, not really listening, too busy focusing on making another mark in the place where Cas’ neck meets his shoulder.

“Dean, seriously,” Cas says, and Dean’s pulls his mouth away with a pop. He frowns up at his boyfriend, his boyfriend who has never gotten out of bed before noon if he could get away with it, and who inhales his morning coffee like it’s the elixir of life. “I made you breakfast,” Cas insists again, his eyes earnest, and Dean realises that this means something to him. That he’s made an effort, and that he wants Dean to appreciate it.

And sure, Dean would rather appreciate the finer points of his boyfriend right now, but he supposes he can make an exception.

Cas tilts his head and the two men squint at each other.

“ _Fine._ ” Dean caves, letting his hands drop back to the bed with an exaggerated huff. Cas grins in victory, leaning down to place a quick kiss on the tip of Dean’s nose before he leaps off the bed. He’s naked, gloriously so, and Dean feels a pout forming as he watches his delectable ass walking away.

“You owe me a birthday blowjob!” He yells as Cas rounds the corner, and Cas’ answering laugh has any true irritation Dean had felt waning entirely.

When Cas returns, sadly now wearing a pair of sweatpants, he’s carrying a tray laden with pancakes. _Pancakes._ Honest-to-god, golden, fluffy pancakes, stacked with strawberries and cream. Dean’s mouth waters, and he has to snap his jaw shut from where it’s fallen open in shock.

Cas is positively beaming with pride when he sets the tray down in Dean’s lap, leaning over him to fluff up his pillows against the headboard. There’s a mug of coffee on the tray as well, and it’s ready at the perfect temperature when Dean goes to take a sip. He moans, eyes fluttering shut, as the taste of caramel and vanilla washes over his tongue. Goddamn, he’s gonna end up owing Cas a blowjob for all this, his birthday be damned.

He sets his mug down on the nightstand and turns his head to catch Cas’ gaze, his heart warming at the happiness plastered all over his boyfriend’s face.

“You. Are. Awesome.” Dean states, reaching his hand over to tangle with Cas’ over the duvet. He brings their hands to his mouth, placing a kiss across the back of Cas’ knuckles. “Best birthday breakfast _ever._ ”

Cas just grins, leaning forward with a fork to spear a mouthful of pancakes, strawberry, and whipped cream. He holds it up to Dean, and Dean falters for a moment, but the look on Cas’ face has him caving instantly, opening his mouth to let Cas feed him.

Dean groans at the taste as his lips close around the fork, his eyes falling shut again as the flavour bursts on his tongue. The pancakes are the perfect texture, the strawberries tart and the cream the perfect balance of sweetness. He licks over his lips, savouring it, and when Cas offers him a second bite, he leans forward eagerly this time.

They make it through several pancakes, Dean moaning around every bite, before he hears the distinct clang of Cas dropping the fork to the tray. The pancakes are good, _so good,_ but it’s nothing compared to the look on Cas’ face. Dean’s been watching as Cas’ gaze has grown more and more heated, eyes widening with each bite Dean’s had. Cas is perched on his knees next to him, over the duvet, and the evidence of the effect Dean’s having on him has been tenting his sweatpants since the first bite.

Cas picks the next strawberry up with his fingers, swiping it through some of the cream before holding it up to Dean’s mouth.

Dean’s eyes flicker up to Cas’ before he takes a bite, deliberately not taking the whole thing so that the juice will squeeze out over Cas’ fingers. He darts his tongue out, catching the drops that fall, licking his way along Cas’ finger until he can take the rest of the strawberry in his mouth. He suckles softly on Cas’ thumb as he does so, making sure to clean it of any residue.

Cas’ pupils are blown wide by the time Dean’s done, his mouth parted as his breaths come in quickened pants. He grabs another strawberry, not wasting time covering this one in cream. He shuffles closer on the bed, his knees now pressed up against Dean’s duvet-covered thigh. Despite the layers between them, Dean can feel the heat radiating off him, and the knowledge of what he’s doing to Cas is empowering. Cas’ hands are trembling slightly, and Dean places one of his hands on Cas’ thigh, feeling the muscles quivering beneath him. Cas moans as Dean rubs his hand up and down, hand easing some of the shaking.

Dean wants to be smug about this, but the look on Cas’ face, the flush high on his cheeks and the way his eyes keep fluttering shut, is enough to have his own cock leaking against his stomach. He licks his lips, leaning in to take the second strawberry from Cas’ fingers. Cas gasps as Dean engulfs this one in its entirety, opening his mouth wide enough to get Cas’ fingers in too. Dean pulls back slowly, dragging his lips over Cas’ fingers and hollowing his cheeks, sucking the strawberry away from them. He glances up at Cas as he does so, knowing what he must look like, his mouth stretched around the cone of Cas’ thumb and forefingers. He’s deliberately messy about it, biting down on the strawberry so that a mixture of its juice and his saliva dribbles out of the corner of his mouth. He watches as Cas’ eyes are drawn to it, following the trail of it as it drips onto Dean’s chest. He lets go of Cas’ fingers, sinking back into the pillows.

Cas wets his lips, his breath stuttering as he leans forward, his gaze flicking between Dean’s chest and his face. He leans down, licking the mess from Dean’s chest, before reaching across for another strawberry.

He places this one in his own mouth, throwing a leg over Dean so that he’s straddling his thighs, the tray still balanced between them. Cas leans across it, and Dean waits in breathless anticipation as he draws nearer. They meet in the middle, the tangy sweetness of the strawberry spilling between them. Dean moans into Cas’ mouth, the combination of  strawberry mixed with the taste of _Cas_ making his cock twitch.

The remnants of breakfast fall to the floor with a clatter.

Dean grunts as Cas throws himself into the new space, slamming their mouths together. The angle is awkward, Dean pressed up against the headboard as Cas tries to clamber further into his lap. He kisses Dean like he’s starving for it, his hands pawing down Dean’s chest to grab hold of his hips. Dean surrenders himself to it, rubbing his thumbs against Cas’ thighs. He moans into Cas’ mouth when Cas gets a hand around his cock, bucking up into Cas’ fist and pulling away from his mouth with a gasp.

Cas growls low in his throat when his movements are hampered by the layers between them, and he tears himself away, yanking the duvet up and off of Dean. He shifts back on the bed, wrapping his hands around Dean’s thighs and _tugging._ Dean moans as he slides down the bed, barely having a chance to draw breath before Cas is crawling back on top of him and pressing their chests together, bare skin against bare skin. Their kisses are dirty now, wet and messy and desperate.

Dean tangles his hands in Cas’ hair, losing himself in the kiss and the feel of Cas on top of him. He can hear Cas’ heart pounding against his chest, and he lifts his legs from the bed, wrapping them around Cas’ waist until he can rub their cocks together. The material of Cas’ sweatpants rubbing against his cock sends shivers down Dean’s spine, and he tips his head back and groans, thrusting his hips up to try and get closer.

“ _Patience_ ,” Cas murmurs in his ear, and the deep rumble of it squeezes a bead of precome out of Dean’s cock. Dean gasps, his hands clenching in Cas’ hair, pulling involuntarily. Cas grunts into his mouth and reaches his own hands up to grasp Dean’s wrists. He pushes Dean’s hands back to the bed, staring down at him. Dean can barely see the blue of Cas’ eyes, only lust-filled pools staring back at him.

“Stay,” Cas demands, pressing down on Dean’s wrists in emphasis.

Dean swallows, raking his eyes over Cas’ body. His skin is flushed, covered in a thin layer of sweat, the bruises on his collarbone standing out in stark contrast. It’s his face though, the wild look in his eyes. He’s practically radiating desire and yet it’s different, deeper than it usually is. Dean thinks he knows, thinks he knows what it is that’s making Cas feel this way, an aspect of their relationship that they’ve never explored. He’s not certain, but when Cas holds his gaze, Dean gives him a little nod anyway. An acknowledgement that whatever this is, it’s okay by Dean.

A ghost of a smile crosses Cas’ face, one of his hands leaving Dean’s wrist to press a barely there touch to Dean’s cheek. Dean leans into it, smiling back, nothing but open honesty and submission on his face. If possible, the desire on Cas’ face darkens further, and Dean knows he’s right.

Dean licks his lips, swallowing to try and wet his suddenly dry mouth.

“You could tie me up, if you wanted.”

Cas pulls right back at that, his hands leaving Dean’s wrists until he’s sat back on his haunches over Dean’s thighs.

“Dean-”

“Seriously, Cas,” Dean cuts him off. He wets his lips again. “I want you too.”

And he does, he realises. He wants to explore whatever this is, wants to explore something new with Cas. He trusts Cas, more than anything, and he knows that this is something Cas wants. And this is only a stepping stone, but it’s one that up until this moment Dean hadn’t even realised he was ready to take.

Cas looks back at him, desire now at war with whatever doubts are running through his mind. Cas’ cock is still rock hard, Dean can tell by the way it’s tenting his sweats. He reaches a hand out, grasping it through the material, and Cas tilts his head back with a groan. Dean continues with his ministrations while Cas takes a couple of deep, hitching breaths. It’s not until Dean pauses, waiting, that Cas meets his eyes again.

“You sure?” Cas asks, poorly concealed hope glinting in his eyes.

Dean nods, and Cas smirks.

He grabs Dean’s wrist again, pushing it back to the bed. He leans over him, close, but hovering far enough away that their skin doesn’t meet. He skims his lips across Dean’s clavicle, a barely-there touch that has Dean shivering as goosebumps rake their way across his skin. It’s only after Cas runs his nose up Dean’s neck, pausing to suck a mark into the sensitive spot behind Dean’s ear, that Dean realises his mistake.

“I thought I told you to keep your hands here,” Cas whispers, and it’s dark velvet against Dean’s skin, sinful and full of promise.

Dean’s body thrums with anticipation when Cas gets up off the bed, heading to their closet. The muscles in his back ripple as he opens it, and Dean watches, rapt, as he snags a couple of ties from the rack. He saunters back over, and Dean has to clench the muscles in his stomach to stop his hips from bucking upwards when Cas trails a silk tie over his cock. It punches a gasp out of him regardless, and he arches his back slightly, wanting more.

Cas just smirks down at him, reaching instead for one of Dean’s wrists and pulling it up and out towards the bedpost. Dean tests it when he’s done, pleased to see that Cas hasn’t been gentle with him. It’s not tight enough to hurt, but Dean knows he’s not getting out of this until Cas wants him too.

Cas climbs back onto the bed when the first wrist is secure, straddling Dean’s hips as he leans over to grab Dean’s other hand. His chest hovers just above Dean’s mouth as he secures the other wrist, close enough that Dean could dart his tongue out and flick it over Cas’ skin if he wanted too. But Dean knows that Cas wants him to stay still, to be compliant. _Submissive._ Another shudder runs through Dean at the word, at the images it conjures in his mind, and the look on Cas’ face when he sits back and arches a brow at him is so worth it.

“You’ll tell me if you want me to stop?”

Dean nods, keeping eye contact so that Cas knows he means it.

“I need you to tell me, Dean.”

“I will,” Dean promises him, earnest and honest. “I promise. If I want you to stop I’ll tell you.”   

“Good boy,” Cas murmurs, cupping Dean’s jaw in his hand. Dean can’t stop his hips from rocking up at that, and he whines deep in his throat. His cock feels swollen it’s been hard for so long, and he’s getting desperate now for some relief.

“Cas, please,” Dean says, arms already straining against the ties. _Christ,_ Cas isn’t even _naked_ yet. “Touch me.”

Cas smiles, skating his hand down Dean’s chest to tweak a nipple. Dean arches into it, his mouth falling open in a wordless cry when Cas leans down and soothes his tongue over it. He laps at it, once, twice, before biting down gently, teasing at the skin as Dean pants above him.

“You’ll need to be more specific with what you want, Dean,” Cas replies, blowing lightly on the wet spot he’s just created. Dean shivers at the sensation, desire spreading to every nerve. Cas moves down the bed, leaving a trail of marks behind him as he goes, until he can start attacking Dean’s hip bones with his lips. He nibbles his way along one, Dean’s cries falling on deaf ears as his cock lies ignored only inches away.

“Cas, _please,_ ” Dean whimpers as Cas sucks another mark into the crease where his hip meets his thigh. “Please, touch me, touch my cock.”

Cas huffs, smiling against his skin. His eyes flick up across the length of Dean’s body, almost completely black with lust.

“Good boy,” he whispers again, before he finally, _finally,_ licks a slow stripe up Dean’s cock. Dean arches like a bowstring, his fingers and toes curling as Cas laps around the head, gathering up the mess of precome that Dean’s spilled. Incoherent sounds spill from his mouth when Cas wraps his lips around him and starts sinking down, hollowing his cheeks as he moves agonisingly slow. When Dean’s cock finally meets the back of Cas’ throat, it takes all the willpower Dean has to prevent him from coming then and there. Cas waits a moment, tracing the underside of Dean’s cock with his tongue, before he tilts his head, taking Dean in further, and _swallows_.

It’s only Cas’ arm lying across Dean’s stomach that prevents him from bucking up into Cas’ mouth, an inarticulate cry clawing its way out of his throat as Cas’ own constricts around the head of his cock. Dean shakes his head, desperately trying to stave off his orgasm as Cas draws back, starting to bob his head up and down at a relentless pace. Dean’s vision blurs, moisture pooling in his eyes as pleasure zings through every nerve ending, lighting him up from the inside. He pulls against the bonds on his arms, letting out a gasp at the added spike in pleasure when he realises that he truly cannot move, that he’s completely at Cas’ mercy.

He forces his gaze downwards, moaning at the sight of Cas between his legs. Cas’ hands are holding his thighs in a bruising grip, keeping them spread, his eyes flicking up to watch Dean fall apart. Dean moans again, the tail of it edging toward a whimper as Cas pushes him closer and closer, backing off each time. For a moment Dean wishes his own hands were free, wishes he could bury them in Cas’ hair and move his head just so. But there’s something thrilling about the fact that he _can’t,_ and lust pools in every one of his muscles as he strains against the ties, the feeling of it new and exhilarating. Cas is fully in charge here, fully in control of exactly how and when Dean gets to come, and it’s euphoric to just let go and let him lead.

Cas pulls off him with a lewd pop, and Dean groans at the loss, thrusting his hips upwards in search of the heat of Cas’ mouth.

“ _Cas!”_

“Do you want to come, Dean?” Cas asks, and the glare that Dean shoots him could freeze hellfire. Cas raises an eyebrow, and Dean backs down instantly, thighs starting to tremble slightly with how badly he _needs_ to come. He nods frantically, tears escaping from his eyes at the overwhelming pleasure he feels.  He’s never felt so desperately turned on, every fibre of his being alight with rapture. Cas grins down at him, his eyes glinting with a fire that Dean knows is going to ruin him. “I want to hear you _beg._ ”

Dean groans, and both of them watch as another pearl of precome pulses from the head of his cock.

“ _Cas_ ,” Dean gasps, “ _please,_ please, I need to come, please, let me-”

Cas smiles, softer this time, letting out another “good boy,” before he dips his head down once more. He slides his hands down under the swell of Dean’s ass, pressing softly, and Dean lets out a sound that’s halfway between a moan and a sob when he catches on. He starts thrusting up into Cas’ mouth, his rhythm frantic and uneven as he bucks up, desperately chasing his orgasm. Cas relaxes his throat, swallowing around Dean’s cock on every thrust, and Dean cries out, his vision whiting out as pleasure rips through him like a fire. His hips seize, his cock throbbing as he pulses load after load of come down Cas’ throat. It’s endless, an unending stream of desire and lust and satisfaction singing in his blood as he cries out over and over again. His hips stutter wildly, completely out of his control, his entire body shaking as he slumps back to the bed, pleasure lighting up his every nerve.

He tries to speak, finding himself unable to do so as Cas suckles gently at his cock as it softens, soothing it before he pulls off.

A mumbled “hrrgh,” escapes him, and he’s barely cognizant as Cas moves to untie his arms, gently rubbing each wrist to encourage the blood flow, warming his fingers between his palms. He’s not really aware of Cas moving about him either, rearranging his limbs on the bed, wiping him down with a warm washcloth, covering him up with the duvet. He’s only aware of the sated hum in his mind, of the warmth of the connection he feels between them. It’s a connection that Cas never lets up, one of his hands continuously trailing across Dean’s skin, or his voice murmuring soft words across the room.

Cas makes Dean sit up and drink some water, and it snaps him back into focus a little bit, the liquid a cool balm on his wrecked throat. Cas lays him back down after that, clambering into the bed alongside him and scooping Dean up into his arms. Dean’s mind feels like jelly, his thoughts all over the place, but he feels relaxed and content here with Cas. His arm lies across Cas’ hip, toying absently with the waistband of his boxers. He’s certain Cas was wearing sweats earlier, and it’s as he’s piecing through this thought that he realises that Cas didn’t even come yet, that he hadn’t even _attempted_ to return the favour. The fingers of Dean’s other hand tighten where they’re wrapped in Cas’ shirt, and his breaths start coming a little quicker, but Cas is instantly there, soothing a hand through his hair and pressing kisses to his forehead.

“Hey, none of that,” Cas murmurs, burying his nose in Dean’s hair. “I already finished, babe.”

Dean frowns, confused. “When?”

“When you did,” Cas answers, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“But you, your hands, you-”

“I didn’t need my hands,” Cas chuckles, shaking his head. “Just the _sounds_ you make... You have no idea what you do to me, Dean.”

Dean doesn’t really know what to say to that, but it stokes the fire of warmth that’s already burning inside of him. He feels vulnerable and exposed, and yet still safe, tucked into Cas’ chest with his arms wrapped around him.

“You really came in your pants like a teenager?” Dean snickers, because he can’t _not._

“Yep,” Cas replies, “totally worth it.”

“If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Cas says, drawing back so he can fix Dean with a look. “Now, we should nap, I still have birthday plans for you later.”

Dean only hums at that, already feeling sleep overtaking him. He burrows closer, nosing around until he can rest his nose in the hollow of Cas’ neck, breathing in the scent of him.

The last thing Cas hears before Dean falls asleep is a whispered “Best. Birthday. Blowjob. _Ever._ ”

  
  
  
  
  



End file.
